


I’m Not Supposed To Be Here

by thewintersghost



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i project my emotions on snufkin sorry if it's ooc, snufkin has a thicc breakdown, snufkin learns to accept comfort and help tho so that is pretty lit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-08 21:39:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18903169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewintersghost/pseuds/thewintersghost
Summary: He was fishing when it first started raining...It wasn’t that Snufkin was normally proud. However, in most cases, he possessed a sense of dignity. His thoughtful nature, combined with his strong devotion to independence and insistence on a free lifestyle, left most with the feeling that he was at the very least not the type to show up unannounced with an unspoken plea for help written plainly on his face. Snufkin was a more subtle person, a person who seemed more carefree than that, and yet here he was, standing out in the storm looking like a mess, his mouth open but unspeaking, as though he didn’t know what to say. Moomin simply grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.In which Snufkin experiences a dangerous storm and is forced to confront his aversion to relying on other people.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fanfic i've ever post lmao get hyped babes!! we out here typing. this whole thing can get mad sad so watch out. also i've been writing while having a breakdown which is just simply the best way to do things dfjsdkfjs enjoy babes and thank you for your comments

He was fishing when it first started raining.

  
Then came a sudden strong gust of wind.

  
He looked up, surprise on his face, as he quickly caught his hat, which had nearly blown away. A storm like this, though not unheard of, was rare in Moominvalley. Grabbing onto his hat, he fought the wind, still as blowing as strong as it had been, as he made his way back to his tent, aware that a storm like this demanded some sort of shelter. Around him, leaves, dark green from the late summer weather, fell in a way that reminded him of autumn, although he knew it was much too early in the year for that.  
He ducked into his old green tent, the closest thing he had to a home. The storm blew the front portion open, and the rain in. He was getting wet. Normally, he wouldn’t mind, but the rain was so vicious and the wind so strong that it felt like small shards of glass were hitting his face.

  
Although Snufkin would never admit it to anyone else, storms like this scared him. His limited possessions were a blessing, and a symbol of his independent and free lifestyle, but they were also a curse. If he lost anything, he would be unable to replace it for quite a long time, if such a replacement existed. When he only carried the essentials, such a loss could endanger his lifestyle and independence itself. He was concerned about food, if the storm should continue for a while, as he would be unable to fish in this weather. Most of all, he was concerned about the others in the valley, though he didn’t want to admit it…

  
He was thinking about them when suddenly his tent was ripped from above him. The wind had lifted it up, and he turned and watched in horror as it was quickly blown away, only to be torn into shreds as it was caught on a tree branch and blown against it, tearing the tent until the fabric uselessly fluttered away. He watched in the distance as a tree fell, and then looked around at the trees around him. He needed a real shelter. The rain stung. It was coming down in sheets that slapped his face.

  
Even his hat could not be saved. He relaxed his grip for a second and suddenly it was gone, flying away. His hat, which he had carried with him for as long as he could remember… Although Snufkin was normally the type of person to hide his strongest emotions, the sight of his two most important possessions being destroyed nearly brought tears to his eye. What kind of a traveler was he, he wondered, without a tent and a hat? What would he do in the winter?

  
He couldn’t think about it for long. He needed to get somewhere safe. The woods weren’t his friend, not with branches falling around him and his tent gone. So, he went the only place that he could.

  
Moomin sat in his room, watching the storm, when he heard the knock. Visitors, at a time like this? His curiosity got the better of him as he flew down the stairs and opened the door, only to see Snufkin standing in front of him, looking oddly fragile in a way Moomin wasn’t used to.

  
His hat, which normally covered most of his head, was gone, revealing his brown hair, wet and messy from the wind. His eyes, a deep dark brown, seemed to be begging for Moomin to help him. His long coat was even messier than normal, with small holes torn into it in some places. His shoes, beaten up and covered in mud, seemed completely soaked.

  
It wasn’t that Snufkin was normally proud. However, in most cases, he possessed a sense of dignity. His thoughtful nature, combined with his strong devotion to independence and insistence on a free lifestyle, left most with the feeling that he was at the very least not the type to show up unannounced with an unspoken plea for help written plainly on his face. Snufkin was a more subtle person, a person who seemed more carefree than that, and yet here he was, standing out in the storm looking like a mess, his mouth open but unspeaking, as though he didn’t know what to say. Moomin simply grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.

  
“Snufkin!” Moomin exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a bit of a storm out there,” Snufkin replied, trying to smile but failing. “Perhaps it’s a hurricane.” He pretended to look thoughtful, but his eyes radiated sadness, and Moomin understood at the very least that Snufkin didn’t want to be in his house; rather, he didn’t have a choice.

“You can stay with us! Come on up, I’ll let you stay in my room!” Moomin said. He was concerned about Snufkin, but something about having him over, as a guest in his house, made him excited.

  
“Ah, do you…” Snufkin started, but Moomin was already dashing up the stairs.

“Come on Snufkin!” he called. Snufkin followed cautiously, glancing down at his feet as he scaled the stairs. Suddenly, unused to being in a house, he tripped over one, falling over and scraping his hand.

“Snufkin!” Moomin cried. “Come on, I’ll help you!” He grabbed his friend’s hand, holding it tightly. Snufkin was soaked, but Moomin didn’t mind. Being there with Snufkin and comforting him was the most important thing.

The two made it to Moomin’s room. Snufkin looked around. He had seen Moomin’s room, of course, but never from the perspective of someone who knew he would spend at least a night there. Glancing around, he saw a collection of possessions, more than he could ever allow himself to have. It was fascinating, he thought, how such a collection of mere things, things he would’ve never found important, comforted him so much to look at. Somehow, though he couldn’t understand why, they were all very much reflective of the personality of Moomintroll himself.

“Let’s get you dried off,” said Moomin. “I’ll be right back with some towels.” Snufkin collapsed on the floor the second he left, suddenly exhausted. He lay there, frustrated with the situation, until Moomin returned with a collection of soft-looking white towels. Snufkin, who was still on the ground, felt much too tired to respond properly.

“Here, I’ll help you,” Moomin said. He cautiously reached out towards Snufkin’s head, towel in hand, and rubbed his hair until it was no longer dripping wet. Snufkin didn’t resist, not even flinching, much to Moomin’s surprise. He must not be feeling well, Moomin thought, if he doesn’t insist on doing this himself. Snufkin was not rude, of course, but he didn’t like reliance on others.

“Thanks Moomin,” Snufkin said softly and distantly when Moomin was done. His eyes were unfocused, as though he was thinking of something else.

“So, what’s on your mind, then, Snufkin?” Moomin asked, noticing that Snufkin was deep in thought. The troll sat down on the floor next to his friend, a concerned look on his face.

“You know, the storm destroyed my tent,” Snufkin said, his voice quivering. His eyes were closed now.

“Oh, Snufkin,” Moomin said sympathetically. “I’m sorry. But I’m sure we can get you a different one, once the storm is over.”

“You don’t understand,” cried Snufkin, despair in his voice. “That tent was special to me. It was my home! It was a symbol of my independence!” His eyes were scrunched closed and he put his head in his hands.

“Snufkin, I-”

“No!” Snufkin sobbed. “Where do I go now? Where do I stay?”

“With me,” Moomin said, hurt. Outside, the storm raged and the wind howled.

“I can’t stay with you!” Snufkin cried. “You know me! I have to keep moving! I have to be my own person! I can’t stay in the same place! And where do I go without my tent? How do I do this?”

Moomin had never seen Snufkin upset, especially not like this. His friend, who was normally so good at hiding his emotions and moving on, seemed to have completely broken down in front of him.

“Snufkin, calm down,” Moomin cautioned. “It’s okay.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Snufkin screamed, his body shaking. Tears were streaming down his face. “You have a home! You’re surrounded by nobody but people who love you! But people like me were meant to wander alone forever! I wasn’t even supposed to have a friend like you! I should be out there in the storm right now! If I was smart, I would’ve left Moominvalley in the winter and never come back! I know what’s best for me, and what’s best for me is being alone. That’s the only way that I’m happy!”  
Snufkin stopped, opening his eyes for a second to look at Moomin. He immediately began to worry he had said the wrong thing, but he didn’t have the energy to apologize. Now, Moomin was crying too, and it hurt him to see.

“Snufkin, you don’t mean that do you?” he said softly. “You don’t think it would have been better if we hadn’t ever met?”

Snufkin paused. “I don’t know,” he replied miserably. “I don’t know. I really don't know.”

Moomin got up and left the room for a minute so that Snufkin wouldn’t see just how hurt he was. It was better, he concluded, to hide the pain. Though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Snufkin had meant what he had said, he could also see how hurt his friend was right now. When he came back, Snufkin seemed barely conscious, his eyes unfocused and the look on his face so distant that Moomin couldn’t help but be scared.

“Here,” whispered Moomin, his voice trembling. “Let’s get you out of that wet jacket of yours.” He slid the jacket off, suddenly aware of how intimate the moment was. He didn’t know if Snufkin was wearing a shirt underneath his jacket or not, and what if he wasn’t? Moomin’s heart was pounding, but luckily, Snufkin had simply a large light green long sleeved shirt and old faded brown pants underneath. Moomin worked to remove Snufkin’s muddy shoes, too, revealing his sockless small feet.

“Is that better?” Moomin asked.

“Well, these clothes are wet too,” Snufkin responded, looking away in shame. His face was turning red. He had never allowed anyone see him like this before. Without his hat or his jacket, he felt practically naked.

“Oh, uh…” Moomin said, blushing. “Well…” Snufkin’s face was now a bright red color, his eyes no longer unfocused as he could feel the tension between the two of them.

“Do you have any pajamas?” Snufkin asked, knowing Moomins rarely wore clothes except when sleeping.

“I do, but they might be pretty big for you,” replied Moomin, who couldn’t stop staring at Snufkin. “You know, Moomins are a lot bigger than you think.”

Snufkin nodded thoughtfully. “I think that would be fine,” he said. “Do you think I could… could I…” he trailed off. Snufkin had never been one to ask for help, especially not for his own personal reasons like this. The words formed in his mind, but his mouth refused to speak them. “I’m sorry,” he sighed quietly. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“No, Snufkin, it’s alright,” Moomin said. “I just want you to be happy. I’ll go get pajamas, alright?”

Snufkin didn’t respond, and Moomin took it to mean that his friend wanted them, but didn’t know how to say so. He left on a search for the pajamas, eventually finding a relatively small blue pair. It turned out that it didn’t matter though, because by the time Moomin returned, Snufkin was already fast asleep on the floor.


	2. What If I Never Returned?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Snufkin is honest with Moomin, and Moomin is honest right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's up gamers i'm back with chapter 2 because y'all were so kind and i was.... shook. hopefully i know how to add chapters right because this is the first fanfic i've ever posted lmao. anyways THANKS FOR THE POSITIVE FEEDBACK BABES I LOVE YOU!! IT MADE ME SO HAPPY I LOVE EVERYONE SO MUCH AND I LOVE COMMENTS!! anyways this chapter is both like.... romantic and sad bc uhhhh that's a mood enjoy

The pajamas were forgotten quickly, and Moomin bent over to pick up Snufkin off of the floor. He quickly moved his sleeping friend to his bed without disturbing him. He wasn’t hard to carry, and Moomin was shocked by how light and fragile Snufkin, who normally seemed so strong, felt in his arms. While placing him gently on the bed, Moomin thought again about his friend’s feelings. He must feel truly awful, Moomin decided. His tent must have meant more to him than Moomin knew. Snufkin was clearly suffering and struggling to cope. But Moomin didn’t know how to help or what to say, especially after Snufkin had screamed about being better alone. So, Moomin didn’t wake him. He tucked him in. Snufkin didn’t stir.

Now, it was Moomin’s time to sleep, too. He crawled into bed, aware of Snufkin’s body right beside him. His eyes wandered from the ceiling, to the room around him, and finally found their way to his friend beside him. Snufkin was snoring very softly, his face seeming peaceful and relaxed compared to the outburst he’d had earlier. Snufkin’s hair was dry now, revealing its more golden color that was visible every time lightning from the storm illuminated the room. The locks of hair that framed his sleeping face were messy, but that was part of the appeal of Snufkin, Moomin thought. He wasn’t concerned about the way that he looked, but somehow he managed to look incredible all the same.

Moomin didn’t normally get a chance to look at Snufkin for this long. He was often scared that if he looked at Snufkin for more than a few seconds, his friend would notice and make assumptions. Maybe he’d be uncomfortable, Moomin thought. Maybe he’d run away. But now, Snufkin was here, sleeping softly, and Moomin had him all to himself. It was just the two of them in the room.

Moomin noticed that some of Snufkin’s hair was covering his eye. Gently, the troll brushed it behind his ear, savoring the feeling of his hand on Snufkin’s smooth skin.

“Snufkin,” Moomin whispered. “I hope you’re sleeping well.”

Moomin felt warm, but suddenly exhaustion hit him. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of falling into sleep. He was dreaming now, of spring in the valley, of life and joy, the excitement of a new season, and all was peaceful. Around him, the flowers were in bloom. Birds flew overhead. He could see the light blue sky, soft and welcoming. Today, he thought, was a good day for an adventure. He heard a harmonica playing a familiar tune, and he started to run down the dirt path towards the bridge. In his dream, there were no bad feelings, nothing but happiness…

He was awoken by Snufkin flailing about in the bed. Opening an eye, Moomin observed as Snufkin sat up quickly, his breathing quick, his eyes wide open in the dark. The storm outside continued, but outside of the sound of heavy rain, the room was quiet, except for Snufkin’s heavy breathing. Moomin hesitated, not knowing what to do as he watched his friend. He seemed to be panicking. Suddenly, Snufkin turned to him, terror and regret plain on his face.

“Moomin,” Snufkin cried, his voice hoarse. He had woken his friend up, and that was the worst part. His words were failing him again, his mouth useless. He felt an avalanche of thoughts, all of them regretful. What could he say? He didn’t deserve to be here? He didn’t deserve Moomin? He felt a bitter taste in his throat and realized that he wouldn’t be able to explain the way he felt. He sighed. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Were you having a bad dream?”

“Yes,” Snufkin said, turning away again. The images were still in his mind. The feeling of no one remembering him, the feeling that he was unimportant in the grand scale of the world, haunted him. This feeling, the feeling that he wasn’t important, used to be liberating. Now he was afraid. He knew he couldn’t tell Moomin these fears, so he simply said, “the bad dreams come every night, you know. That’s why I always sleep by myself.”

“Snufkin,” Moomin told him, sitting up. “It’s alright. I’m here. No bad dream is going to hurt you. Everything’s okay.” He placed his paw hesitantly on Snufkin’s shoulder. 

“It’d be better if I wasn’t here,” Snufkin said as he lowered his face into his hands. His heart was still pounding, his breathing still quick, and he couldn't think straight. “And it'd be better if you didn’t see me like this. I’m supposed to be happy and carefree. I’m supposed to be that jolly traveller with dignity, someone who looks happy, and not this mess.” He spoke without thinking, the words suddenly draining from his mouth, until he realized what he had said, and grew silent again. 

“You don’t have to hide anything from me, Snufkin,” said Moomin. "If you're not happy, tell me!"

“Moomin, I…” Snufkin murmured, tears in his eyes. He doesn’t understand, Snufkin thought, more words he couldn’t speak. If only Moomin understood how afraid Snufkin was. He needed to choose what he said carefully. After a pause, he spoke quietly. “You know… how much you mean to me, right?” He couldn’t look Moomin in the eyes.

Moomin didn’t know how to respond, thanking the darkness for hiding the blush he knew would have been visible on his face. How could he respond to a question like that? Instead, he decided, the best thing to do would be to let Snufkin know how much he meant to him. “Gosh, Snufkin," Moomin said, "I really think well of you. I think you’re great!” Snufkin said nothing, so Moomin continued. “You know, every spring, from the time that I wake up, I wait and watch the woods for you to return. And when I hear your harmonica! Gosh, remember when I found that dragon? You were the first one I wanted to show!” 

Snufkin still couldn’t speak. Moomin was missing the point entirely. Moomin didn’t know that being cared about made him feel trapped. But there was also another feeling, one he didn’t know how to properly categorize. 

“I really care about you Snufkin,” Moomin told him.

Snufkin felt the emotion, the one he couldn’t categorize, growing. It was warm like a gentle fire, and it made him want to run away, but, he also realized, it also made him want to stay with Moomin. For one of the first times in his life, he felt he would be content being stationary, content living in this moment if he could, until he felt the fears start to fill his head again. As quickly as he had grown to love it, the feeling had been extinguished. Everything was just as normal, and he felt like he was sinking again, his body cold. “Well...” he began, then paused. The night had a funny way of drawing truth out of him, and his fears seemed more tangible around him. “Sometimes I wonder, what if I didn’t come back?”  
,  
“If you didn’t come back, I’d be heartbroken,” Moomin said honestly. “You’re my closest friend. We go on so many adventures together!” He paused for a brief second, before continuing. “I love the time we spend together, just you and me.”

“But what if I never returned?” Snufkin repeated. “You’d give up waiting eventually, wouldn’t you?”

“I couldn’t!” Moomin replied. “I know you need your independence. But without you coming back, I don’t know what I’d do! The time when you’re not here is hard enough. Sometimes, I wish you wouldn’t go at all.”

“You know how much my travelling means to me,” Snufkin said. “You know how I need to keep moving. I can’t stay in one place for too long, or I… I start to expect things, things that I shouldn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, Moomin,” Snufkin said, “I think about you more than anything.” The words he spoke felt so insignificant in the darkness, though he knew they weren’t. Perhaps it was the fact that he was tired, he thought, and that was what was drawing the words out, making them flow from his mouth like it was nothing, when normally he would think before speaking and stop himself. Suddenly, he needed them out, needed to tell Moomin his thoughts. “You know, I don’t even think about my journeys as much now, not like I think of you. Because of that, I’m afraid.” His tone was even, perhaps relieved, though his eyes were sad. “I’ve never had anyone as close to me. I spent most of my life feeling invisible, like my life itself was irrelevant.”

“It’s not,” Moomin told him. “Because, you’ve always been good. I love you very much.” With that, Moomin pulled Snufkin close. He half expected his friend to flinch away, to run, but he didn’t. He allowed himself to be dragged into Moomin’s arms, feeling the softness of his friend’s fur and the warmth from his body. He was in a world of his own now, the doubts and the darkness far away, his eyes closed as the emotion, the one he didn’t know, returned. It must be no mistake, he thought, that he only felt this way about Moomin. His friend was so gentle, so good that Snufkin didn’t know how to describe it. The storm outside seemed muffled, and the bad dream seemed irrelevant, the anxiety washing away. 

It was funny, Snufkin thought. As much as he loved being alone, he felt so good, so warm in a way that his journeys couldn't provide. He needed his space, yet he found himself comforted by the lack of space between him and Moomin. It didn’t matter though, he supposed. He wouldn’t think about the contradictions tonight. His breathing, which had been so panicked before, was calm. Snufkin didn't have any more words to say, not because he couldn't speak them, but because he knew that Moomin understood what he felt, and that he understood Moomin. There was a gentle smile on his face, one that he didn't need to try to sustain. There were no bad feelings to fight, nothing to drown him, and eventually, he fell asleep in Moomin’s arms, and it was the most peaceful sleep he had ever experienced.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Snufkin struggles with contradicting forms of longing.

When morning came, he awoke to unfamiliar sounds. Struggling to remember where he was, Snufkin began to panic, until he realized that he was in Moomin’s bed. The fogginess of the morning clouded his head, and he couldn’t remember how or why he had ended up there. He must have been too tired, he reasoned, to refuse to stay here, but it didn’t stop him from feeling like an intruder. Downstairs, he heard Moominmama fixing breakfast. Then, his eyes drifted towards the window, where he saw the storm, still raging outside, and the memories of yesterday came back all at once. With great pain, he recalled what had happened to his tent.

“Snufkin?” Moomin called. He had been waiting for Snufkin to wake up, knowing that his friend might be in for a shock.

“Hey Moomin,” Snufkin said, in an attempt to sound casual that only succeeding in coming off awkwardly. Snufkin stood up to face his friend. He was starting to remember how he had snapped at Moomin last night, and he felt the walls of the room closing in on him. The world was spinning, he was growing dizzy and struggling to steady his breathing…

“Good to see you’re up,” Moomin said with a cheeriness that took Snufkin by surprise. “Mama is cooking breakfast downstairs. Would you like pancakes?”

“No thank you,” Snufkin replied. “I think I’d like to be alone for a bit.” He had a lot to think about, that was for sure.

“Oh!” Moomin exclaimed, understanding flashing on his face. He had known Snufkin long enough to not take his desire to be alone personally, though he secretly longed for more time with his friend. “If you’re sure you don’t want anything…”

“No, thanks,” Snufkin said simply. His eyes broke their contact with Moomin’s as he focused on the wall in front of him. Standing in Moomin’s room, his old clothes still just slightly damp from the storm last night and his hair a mess, he felt uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Moomin replied, then turned and headed downstairs. Snufkin was alone now. He could think again, but only for a second before his mind began to repeat everything that he had said when he was angry. It was all coming back, piling on him, until he couldn’t breathe. He felt trapped and helpless, his mind outside of his own control.

Of course he hadn’t meant to snap. He hadn’t been angry at Moomin, not really. He had been angry at himself, at the storm, and the world. There was only so much of everything he could take, and it just so happened that he hadn’t been alone like normal. The fact that he had taken it out on his closest friend haunted him. He had done one of the only things he was truly scared of, hurting Moomintroll’s feelings.

When he was alone, a wandering soul on his own journeys, he didn’t need to worry about hurting people. He had never found anyone to connect with, not truly, for most of his life, and he had spent that time enjoying the bliss of never worrying about anyone else. His desire to be alone had driven him away from those around him, until he had met Moomin. From the moment Snufkin had meant him, Moomin had filled him with a warmth he’d never experienced before, a warmth that had only grown with each spring he had returned to the valley. Snufkin might still need to be alone, he thought, but he wasn’t lonely.

Of course, friendship with Moomin had other drawbacks, and Snufkin felt now that he was experiencing them. Perhaps being alone was better, he thought, because it was impossible to hurt people who weren’t there. Perhaps he deserved to be alone, and the way that he had treated Moomin last night emphasized that. The negative thoughts were drowning him. He wasn’t worthy of sharing company with those around him, not worthy of spending the night in Moomin’s bed. He couldn’t wander off, and he couldn’t stay here. He belonged to no one, and had no home, but there was also a sense of dedication he felt to Moomintroll, and no way to escape his feelings. His life seemed to be a contradiction. He heard Moomin’s family laugh downstairs, and he felt even more sick.

He walked over to the window. It sat there, enticing him, begging him to crawl out and leave the cursed room he had enclosed himself in. The storm pushed him away, as did his head, which knew that he wouldn’t be safe, but he still felt the tug, drawing him like gravity. How could he resist his nature? He knew that he had no tent, but what did it matter? He couldn’t stay. Moomin didn’t deserve to put up with him. It was different, because Snufkin had snapped. He longed to leave. As the images played again in his head, he knew what he had to do.

“I wish I could stay,” Snufkin murmured. “I’m sorry, Moomin.” He gave one last sad glance at the room. Then, he realized that if he left now, Moomin would be worried sick. He tried to push the thought out of his mind, but he couldn’t. To leave Moomin, not only hurt, but worried, would make him a monster. A tug in the other direction urged him to stay, and to be with Moomin, but how could he? With a sigh, he stepped away from the window and decided to write Moomin a note.

He quickly found a paper and pencil after searching Moomin’s room. There was so much stuff around him, he thought. The materialistic goods, things that had seemed so reflective of Moomin himself before, suffocated him. What was the point of it all? When would Moomin ever use any of this? He pondered this briefly to avoid having to address the task at hand.

Truthfully, Snufkin wasn’t very good at writing, as he hadn’t ever had much of a use for it, and he had no idea how to address such a note. “Moomin,” he began, then crossed it out. “Dear Moomin,” he corrected. “I couldn’t stay here.” This much was true, though it sounded too harsh. Snufkin sighed. He decided to continue. “You know how I am. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.” He smiled at the thought of leaving to return later, under better circumstances perhaps, until the image of Moomintroll, alone, appeared in his mind. “Take care of yourself,” he continued, feeling guilty and less convinced that leaving was what he wanted. He longed to make Moomin understand how much he wanted to stay.

Snufkin stopped himself just short of writing something he knew he shouldn’t admit. In the back of his mind, Snufkin had always known that Moomin was special, but he didn’t want Moomin to know just how important he was to him. Now, he felt these feelings struggling to escape, begging to be written in small characters on the page, and his hand only barely obeyed his mind as he willed himself to stop from confessing his feelings, the warmth bubbling up in his chest just from thinking about it. Instead, he reread the message. Was the last portion too friendly, or was it not enough?

Then, he pictured clearly, for the first time since waking up, what had happened so late after his bad dream, in the darkness that had drawn his feelings out of him and covered them both. He had told Moomin so much of what he felt, and Moomin had listened. The emotion, the one from last night, spread through his body with its heat, his heart beating faster thinking about what had happened. Yes, Moomin had hugged him. How could he have forgotten that feeling, even temporarily?

In the light, it all seemed so far away, but Snufkin couldn’t get the sensation out of his mind. Moomintroll’s soft fur and the warmth of his embrace filled him with an unexpected sense of longing, one that was stronger than his desire to be alone. He placed his head on his hand, hoping that he could regain his sense of logic so he could finish the note, but by covering his face, his could see nothing but darkness, and was reminded of what had happened the night before. The visions were dancing in front of his eyes, and he wanted to feel the way that he had again.

That was how Moomin found him when he came back upstairs. Snufkin was sitting on Moomin’s bed, his cheeks red, one hand over his eyes and the other hand gripping a sheet of paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all're leaving some mad sweet comments and i'm just... so blessed. every comment someone leaves triggers the release of so much serotonin i love you all omg!! i hope you liked this chapter, this might've been a slightly more sad chapter skdjskdksdk sorry babes but don't worry the next one will be happier!! the next one'll be a bit shorter but hopefully y'all will like it so stay tuned to find out what'll happen as snufkin learns to be more accepting of help and love :))) bye babes <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Snufkin realizes he doesn't want to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright babes it's comfort time.... what you've all been waiting for!! this chapter is a lil bit shorter but i think you will understand why i ended it where i did. once again i gotta say thanks to everyone who leaves comments and kudos because it's super sweet and as i mentioned before, this is my first time posting my writing like this...... y'all are mad kind it's amazing! thank you and ily all <3

Snufkin became aware of the fact that he was being watched, and he knew what it meant. He shoved the letter, unfinished, into his coat pocket. He couldn’t let Moomin see it before he was done, and perhaps for other reasons he couldn’t think about. As he did this, his hand brushed against his harmonica, the one thing he had left after the storm. The comfort he felt when playing, he realized, was exactly what he needed. His hand grabbed it, and rather than turn to face Moomin, he turned to face the window, closed his eyes, and lifted the harmonica to his face. He had never practiced this song before, as it was a new composition, but the music seemed to flow out of him.

Moomin listened with adoration at first, but the music had such a sad tone that his smile began to fade. It surrounded him, like the rain in a storm, until he began to feel like he was drowning in the notes, their bitter harmonies suffocating him. Around him, the music became like the ocean, and suddenly, he was content. Its tone had changed now, gentle and welcoming, but Moomin couldn’t help but feel that there was a sad undercurrent that pulled him back down. Gradually, the ocean of sound around him began coming in waves that grew larger and more bold, perhaps even joyful, but still, the piece was remarkably controlled and cautious. After just a few minutes, the song had finished, but Snufkin, who normally prefered much more to be alone than to discuss the way he felt in most cases, had clearly put his emotions, and the emotions of the past day, into his song. 

“That was great,” Moomin said earnestly, unsure of whether or not to feel happy or sad after hearing the tune. His eyes were wide with admiration. 

“I was inspired,” Snufkin replied simply, not elaborating. Moomin stood awkwardly at the entrance to his room unsure of what to say next, and not quite sure he understood his friend’s complex emotions. Instead, he walked towards Snufkin and sat down next to him.

“What were you writing?” Moomin asked, trying to change the subject.

Snufkin flinched a bit. “Oh, nothing much,” he lied, his voice as soothing and smooth as usual. “It wasn’t of importance.”

“You know Snufkin,” Moomin said with a sigh, “if you wanted to leave, you could just do it. I’d be sad, but I’d understand.”

“Who says I wanted to leave?” Snufkin asked, feeling hurt that Moomin could see right through him. Thankfully, his voice stayed steady, and he spoke in his usual tone, a wise and carefree one, that he commonly used for talking to others. He fought for his expression to remain neutral.

“No one, I guess,” Moomin replied, “but I know you. You seem uncomfortable.”

“I guess I am,” Snufkin admitted, looking down. “I don’t really know what to do.”

“That’s okay,” Moomin said, “just please stay inside until after the storm. It’s dangerous out there! I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Alright,” Snufkin said. Moomin’s kindness never failed to touch him, and he became aware of the fact that he was fighting the sudden urge to move closer to Moomin and rest his head on his friend’s shoulder. “I won’t leave yet.” He meant it, and wondered how he could have possibly believed that he could've left just minutes before. It was unfathomable, with his friend here. His hand returned to his pocket, where he absentmindedly scrunched up the paper. “You know, I’m sorry for last night.”

Moomin was surprised. Remorse and regret weren’t emotions that he associated with what had happened, the affection that they had shared and the honest words that had passed between them, nor were they ones that Snufkin often displayed, although admittedly the circumstances were quite different than normal. After a few seconds passed, Moomin realized that Snufkin meant he was sorry for his anger, rather than the affection that had passed between them, and he felt foolish for forgetting. “It’s alright,” Moomin said. “I understand! There’s a lot that’s happening right now.”

“There always has been,” Snufkin said with a weak smile and a small chuckle. “That’s part of why I need to go on journeys. To clear my head.” Moomin just nodded.

“But not all of what happened was bad, right?” Moomin asked.

“I suppose not,” Snufkin said, his grin growing wider against his will. He turned his head as he felt his face turning pink. The room fell quiet, though not awkwardly so, as the two sat in reflection, and the emotions that had passed between them seemed to float in the air around them like a sweet perfume. 

“Snufkin…” Moomin began after a while, though he didn’t know what to say beyond that. Instead, he reached his paw out, placing it on Snufkin’s far shoulder. It was amazing, Snufkin thought, how something so simple and seemingly effortless could profoundly affect his mind in ways he didn't understand, even after years spent coming to know his own thoughts. The comforting gesture had nearly completely melted away Snufkin’s anxiety, and he instinctively leaned over closer to Moomin, as though he had done it thousands of times before, before he realized the potential consequences of what he was doing. Moomin didn’t flinch, though, and his friend was soft and warmer than Snufkin could’ve guessed, so he stayed sitting there, his body leaning on Moomin’s, in bliss.


End file.
